


Sins of the Sire

by Unicron



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mech Preg, Postpartum Depression, and isn't explicit, discussions of consent, mentions of sticky sex, the noncon tagged isn't for the current relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 17:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15078203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unicron/pseuds/Unicron
Summary: To say this wasn't how Tailgate expected to start a family was an understatement, but since when had anything gone according to plan for him?





	Sins of the Sire

                “Well I have good news and I have bad news,” Tailgate said as he walked out of the medbay.

                “Start with the bad news,” Cyclonus said kneeling down to see his partner optics-to-visor.

                Tailgate tensed at that, “Um actually I had that set up to tell you the good news first,” he mumbled, “Like it doesn’t really work the other way. Probably should have expected you’d go that way though.” Tailgate sighed and hesitantly reached for one of Cyclonus’s servos which gripped his own with uncomfortable firmness. “Well I’m healthy. So this isn’t one of those times I tell you I’m dying or I’m going to accidentally maim you in my sleep or anything.”

                Cyclonus planted a kiss to the smaller mech’s helm, “I asked for the bad news.”

                “I’m carrying,” Tailgate said poignantly looking away from Cyclonus.

                “Can I assume the sire is why this is bad news?” Cyclonus asked plainly.

                Tailgate squeezed Cyclonus’s servos with his own, “Yeah.”

                “I’m glad you aren’t dying this time,” Cyclonus replied.

                That managed to garner a chuckle out of the minibot, “Cy is that a joke?” Tailgate continued to giggle a few moments more, “Love’s making you soft.”

                “Your fault.” With that reply Cyclonus picked up Tailgate in his arms and held him close to the purple mech’s chest. “I’m right here whatever you decide to do.”

                “About that,” Tailgate said with a blush, “We’ve gotta talk to Whirl.”

* * *

                “You’re kidding me,” Whirl said in his standard deadpan.

                Ratchet rolled his optics, “Because Cyclonus and I are famous for our humor.”

                “Why would I even lie about this?” Tailgate said absentmindedly rubbing the plating over his spark, “In what world would this be funny?”

                “I don’t know. Maybe you get your kicks from asking mechs to join you in berth and then backing out?” Whirl said annoyed. “You probably have Rewind recording this whole thing to use against me later.”

                Tailgate dropped the servo from his chest and opened his plating to reveal his spark along with the second pinprick of light whirring around it. “Not a joke.”

                “And you sure it isn’t Cyclonus’s?” Whirl asked.

                Tailgate sighed, “Cy and I never have-“the minibot cut himself off blushing.

                “So will you or not?” Cyclonus asked Whirl. “We have other mechs to ask if you say no.”

                “How much transfluid will it take to override Getaway’s CNA exactly?” Whirl asked.

                “None.” Ratchet said, “It won’t override anything. The spark is still tied to his CNA. That being said the primary provider-or providers-of transfluid can contribute to sparklings physical features such as paint nanites and frame type. With regular interface it is completely likely that the sparkling shares at least some resemblance to Cyclonus, if not as much resemblance to Tailgate and Getaway.”

                “But what I’m thinking,” Tailgate said cutting in, “Is if Cy frags me as much as he can we have better chances of that, and if when he can’t frag me you can and the bitlet will have even more transfluid of not-horrible mechs to pull from.”

                “Jury is still out on how ‘not horrible’ I am Tailgate.” Whirl replied after a moment, “So I’ll take it if you’re asking me Cyclonus is alright with it.”

                “It is Tailgate’s decision,” Cyclonus replied, “But if you must know Whirl you were both of our first choice for this.”

                “Do I get to help raise it?” Whirl said staring at Tailgate’s chest.

                “Only if you want!” Tailgate said, “Anyone on team Rodimus who contributes can help us as much or as little as they want.”

                Whirl’s optic glinted and narrowed slightly, “Well then when do I start?”

                “Not until you three get out of here,” Ratchet grumbled gesturing to the door, “Some of us have work to do.”

* * *

                Any confidence Tailgate had left the moment he entered the berthroom. Thankfully his partners seemingly had all the confidence in the world as Cyclonus helped to lift him onto the berth and Whirl nuzzled at his neck. The minibot did his best to relax into the touch and managed to for a moment before Whirl pulled away and shared a knowing look with Cyclonus that once again killed any relaxation on Tailgate’s end.

                “What’s wrong?” Cyclonus asked. Whirl pulled away and Tailgate couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong. He couldn’t for the life of him guess how he managed to screw up interface before they even started.

                “Nothing,” Tailgate said shuttering his optics, “Are you two going to frag me or what? I want this sparkling to be a flight frame.”

                “I’d love this bitlet to be a helicopter,” Whirl said plainly, “But we’re not fragging you when you’re this tense.”

                “Please? I’ll relax once we get going.” Tailgate onlined his optics and sighed, “I want this, I promise, just do whatever.”

                “Would it be better if one of us left?” Cyclonus asked, “If you have a position you like you can’t see working with all of us.”

                “I…there is more than one?” Tailgate asked.

                “You know what,” Whirl said aggressively, “I’m gonna step out, tell Rodimus that Cy and me are calling dibs on killing Getaway, and Cy how about you show our mech that your favorite position isn’t brooding at a window staring into middle distance.” He nuzzled Tailgate one more time before leaving the berth, “Then we’ll try to make sure that newspark is as ridiculously good looking as me.” He winked, or blinked in an approximation of what Tailgate assumed would have been a wink if it could, and left with a quick wave closing the door behind him.

                “So how do we do this?” Tailgate asked, “Should I still lie down or is that wrong too?”

                “Nothing is wrong if you enjoy it,” Cyclonus said slowly, “Whirl and I were only worried because your frame isn’t exactly screaming enjoyment when you’re as tense as the time you learned you had Cybercrosis.” Cyclonus pulled Tailgate into his lap with the minibots back to his stomach and proceeded to rub his arms, “If you don’t want to do this you can always have the transfluid medically deposited.”

                “I’d rather have you take me here and now however you want than visit Ratchet daily for the next meta-cycle.” Tailgate said plainly, “Plus I’m not gonna ask you to raise another mech’s sparklet without getting something out of it.”

                “I’m so glad Whirl is dibsing fighting Getaway,” Cyclonus muttered under his breath before pulling his partner into a hug, “Tailgate I love you and I’ll love your sparkling. Do you know what I thought the odds were of having a family? Zero. Now I have you and a sparkling on the way. If you let me raise it that is all the ‘something’ I need.” Cyclonus repositioned Tailgate so they were face to face and kissed his helm. “So do you want to talk about this to me or do I call Rung?”

                “Look who’s talking,” Tailgate said with a chuckle. “If not talking to your partner was a sport you’d win first place in the galaxy.”

                “That was different. We weren’t together then,” Cyclonus said looking away from Tailgate.

                The minibot huffed, “We were practically conjunx already! Fine. You want me to talk. Interface with Getaway sucked even before you factor in the fact he was just using me. So I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know about not sucky interface and was counting on you and Whirl showing it to me, not playing twenty questions. Now frag me.”

                “Oh Tailgate,” Cyclonus said quietly looking back at his partner. “How about we tell Whirl to come back with a holo? We can look at some things and you can tell the two of us what you want to try first. Whatever you like we’ll keep doing, anything that you don’t like we’ll stop the second you say so.”

                “That sounds amazing,” Tailgate said beaming. “Thank you Cyclonus. You’re the best.”

                “I’m really not,” Cyclonus said, “But since you deserve the best I suppose I should be.”

                Tailgate laughed and finally leaned into the larger mech’s hug, “Then call in Whirl again so we can get going.”

* * *

                “It’s purple!” Tailgate squealed as his sparkling was handed to him. “They’re purple! Cy! Our bitlet is purple!” He reached his arms out and cuddled the bundle close to his chest feeling its EM field radiate happiness at being so close to its carrier. Tailgate returned the happiness tenfold and pushed the blanket away from the sparkling’s face to get a better look.

                “And…yellow. So yellow,” he added sighing, “Sorry bitlet, we tried.” Tailgate looked at the bitlet trying not to let the disappointment in his EM field transfer to the creation. It wasn’t the sparkling’s fault.  

                “I had a yellow face,” Whirl said offering a claw to the bitlet which happily gripped a servo around it. “We’ll tell it that’s what it got from me.”

                “Did you have a faceplate like that?” Tailgate asked rubbing a digit over the sparkling.

                “I believe that’s between me and half-a-dozen dead senators,” Whirl said plainly, “I mean it is what Ratchet said, third parties were gonna contribute to it less than the carrier and sire. So it got your visor and weird optic things and Cy’s coloring,” the helicopter made another attempt at a wink before continuing, “So we tell it that sadly it only got Uncle Whirl’s beautiful face.”  

                “Alright then.” Tailgate said nodding, “Powerplant you have three creators who love you very much.” Tailgate shuttered his optics and allowed himself to feel the sparkling’s utter adoration of its carrier. That would be enough he supposed, it had to be enough.


End file.
